Heartbeat
by RikaChieko
Summary: Long after their short relationship, forged during WW2, came to an end, Alfred can still hear the echo of Arthur's heartbeat. But Arthur certainly couldn't miss him back... could he?  XxStrong LanguagexX
1. Chapter 1

**Hallo! It's Rika! I'm so sorry I've not posted anything in forever. I've been busy with school and some personal stuff (crazy shit man)! This is something I found on my flashdrive, and I'll finish it after I get a long overdue request for Arashi91 (super awesome writer and an even better person. I suggest you look her up). It's close to being done, so it shouldn't take too long, but I make absolutely no promises. **

**I own nothing at all, unfortunately. If I did, there'd be nothing but Germancest everywhere. *sigh* Anyways! Please read, review, and, most importantly, enjoy! :3 I hope you like it!**

_Thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump. _

Alfred could hear the sound of a fast beating heart rushing back to him. It was a sound he hadn't heard since during the Second World War, a time now decades past.

He had been merely a boy when he went into that war, and he'd come out a man in more ways than one. While he was overseas, he fell in love with a man who fought valiantly beside him. His name was Arthur Kirkland. And as fortune would have it, Arthur had fallen for him too.

But overtime, the relationship the two had shared faded into nothing and Arthur had left him.

Alfred had made it through breakup by clinging to some of the last words Arthur had said to him and blocking the memories of the 'us' he and Arthur had shared. He'd forced himself to believe that Arthur had never really loved him. That he'd tried his hardest to stay by his side, not wanting to hurt him, but, in the end, it just wouldn't work.

So why now, years after Arthur had left him, was this particular memory surfacing in his mind.

_Alfred lay curled against Arthur, his head on his bare chest. They'd not had the energy to make love to each other that night and decided to go to bed. Alfred could feel himself being lulled to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of Arthur's chest, the warmth of his soft skin against his cheek, and the pounding of Arthur's heart in his chest. _

_ "Arthur, I can hear your heart!" Alfred smiled up at his boyfriend, hoping to see his deep green eyes once more before he fell asleep. _

_ Arthur gave a small chuckle and decided to humor his junior. "Really? Where do you hear it?" He asked, jokingly. _

_ Alfred apparently hadn't heard the humor in his voice and lifted his head up to answer him seriously. "Right here." He pointed at his left pectoral. Arthur couldn't help but laugh at Alfred's innocence. _

_ "Your heart is right here, silly." Arthur informed Alfred. He placed a finger in the center of Alfred's chest, right over his heart. _

_ Alfred's breath caught in his throat. The look on Arthur's face was one he'd never seen him wear before. It was almost as if he could see how much he cared about him just from the gentle glaze in his endless emerald eyes._

_ "Well, I can still hear it over here!" Alfred protested weakly. His insides had been turned to mush by the look Arthur had given him, rendering him completely defenseless against Arthur's teasing._

_ "Oh, really?" Arthur asked, "Well, what does it sound like, love?" Alfred made his 'thinking face' for just a moment before putting his head back down on Arthur's chest._

_ "Dude, it sounds like this! 'Thud-dump! Thud-dump! Thud-dump! Thud-dump!' Like that!" Alfred said excitedly, tapping his pointer finger against Arthur's collar bone in time with his heart. _

_ "That's pretty fast..."Arthur drawled as ran one of his hands through Alfred's silky soft hair. _

_ "Really?" Alfred asked, his bright blue eyes wide with questioning._

_ "Yes, it is. I wonder what made it beat so fast…" Arthur answered, dragging a feather-light touch down Alfred's spine, hoping he'd get the hint, because he surely wasn't about to admit out loud that just his presence made his heart race._

_ "Yeah… I wonder…" Alfred smiled bright and wide up at Arthur, letting him know that he knew what Arthur was trying to tell him and that he didn't need to say it out loud. It wasn't like he could ever get him to say it, even if he got down on his knees and begged him. Arthur's pride was much too large for him to do anything of the sort._

_ Arthur placed a gentle kiss on the top of Alfred's head, being sure to just barely brush his lips against Nantucket, knowing it was one of the most sensitive parts of Alfred's body. He chuckled lowly in his throat as a bright red blush painted over Alfred's face and he fought back a angry whimper. _

_ "Goodnight Alfred..."_

Alfred closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall and damage his reputation as the hero. Matthew was here, and no one, not even the hero's brother, could see him cry.

Arthur's voice ringing through his head and the remembered touch of Arthur's finger pressed against his chest, brushing up his spine, made it no easier to do the already impossible task. Finally, one single tear slid down his cheek, of course, drawing the unwanted attention of his brother.

"Al?"Matthew asked, his voice brimming with concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Matt," Alfred answered, nodding slowly as he mustered a small smile to re-assure his brother. "I'm alright."

Matthew was quite obviously not convinced by his brother's answer. "Al, I'm not stupid. Tell me what's wrong with you. Maybe I can help, eh?"

A long pause filled the conversation where Alfred was supposed to speak. Minutes ticked by, each second testing Matthew's patience more than the last. Finally he reached up and wiped away the tear stain on his face, hoping that would draw a response him.

"Do you think Arthur ever really loved me, Mattie?" Alfred asked his voice nearly inaudible.

"What?" Mattie asked back. "Al, I thought you were over him."

"I did too. But I… I guess I just miss him Mattie." Alfred raised his head just enough to look his brother in the eye.

"I get it. You really loved him, eh?"

"Yeah, I think I did… He was like my Louis Lane, ya' know?" Matthew couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's reference to his own heroism.

"And I'm the ever faithful sidekick, eh?"

"Of course you are!" Alfred replied more excitedly. Matthew was relieved to see a smile tugging at the corners of his brother's mouth. He hated to see his brother hurting so much all because of someone who would have been considered lucky by most to be courting him.

"Al, I can't tell you if Arthur ever really loved you, but for a long time it seemed like he did."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, nodding his head slowly. "He had me convinced for a while too."

"Well, I think he's stupid and a bastard for leaving you." Matthew tried his best to comfort his brother. He could see tears welling up in his crystalline blue eyes, and Matthew wasn't quite prepared for the situation in which his brother, ever strong and masculine, broke and, for the first time, needed him to pull the pieces back together.

Alfred chuckled at Mattie's use of the quite accurate descriptor for Arthur. "Dude, he was always a bastard." In his head, Alfred could see Arthur complaining about all the stupid people in the world as he often did. As odd as it was, he found that to be one of the things he loved the most about Arthur.

The fact that he probably wouldn't ever see Arthur being his usual cynical self again was soul crushing to Alfred. He could no longer hold back the tears that blurred his vision as the strength quickly left his body. He leaned back against the wall and slid down it till he was sitting on the floor.

Matthew was stunned. He never would have expected his brother to look as fragile as he looked at that very moment and was clueless as what he could do to comfort him. All he could do was watch as Alfred pulled his knees to his chest, laid his head against them and sobbed quietly. The way he'd learned to do when he'd finally stood up against Arthur, trying to fix their damaged relationship.

"I miss him so much! Why do I miss him!" Alfred shouted through his tears. He couldn't help with be frustrated with himself for being so weak, with Matthew for being there to see him like this, with Arthur for breaking his heart and making him fall in love with him in the first place.

Matthew's was snapped out of his daze by the sound of his brother's tear stained confession. He sat down beside him and pulled him into a tight hug. Alfred buried his head in Matthew's jacket as a response, letting his tears dampen the thick cotton as he cried. For what felt forever the only sound that filled the air was Alfred's choked sobs. Matthew tried to find the right words to use to comfort his twin, but could only think of the way Alfred shook in his arms as he gasped for air and how much he hated seeing him like that.

After a while Alfred decided to break the relative silence that bridged between him and Matthew. "I want to see him again…" He whispered. "I don't even remember our last kiss. I wish I'd had known it was going to be our last. Then I would have remembered it for sure…"

"Well, you could always go to him." Matthew suggested.

"But what I would I do when I saw him, though?"

"What would you want to do if you saw him, eh?"

"I'd want to sweep him off his feet like a hero! Duh." Alfred looked at Matthew as if he was stupid for not knowing the painfully obvious answer to his own question.

"Well I guess you've got your answer don't you?" Matthew chuckled. Alfred just needed a little help connecting the dots when it came to things like love, and he was happy to be the one to assist him.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Alfred mused as he wiped the last of his tears from his eyes.

"So what are you gonna do, Al?" Mattie asked as he released Alfred from his grasp to stand up and stretch. "Are you going to see Arthur?"

"Hell yes I am!" He jumped up and struck what could only be described as a hero pose. "I won't just him go like some wimp! I'll make him see just how much of a hero I can be and then he won't be able to resist me!"

"I'm sure he won't, Al. Do you need help packing, eh?" Matthew asked. He clapped a hand Alfred's back as he passed by him as he moved towards Alfred's bedroom. He was truly proud of his brother, and though he'd never ever admit it to anyone, there were times he wished he could be like him.

"Arthur!" a familiar voice called out from behind from Arthur. Much to his distress, it was followed by a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into an unwanted hug. The mass of man who'd thrown himself at him pushed Arthur forward into the soapy water in his kitchen sink.

"Good Lord, Francis where in the bloody hell did you come from!" Arthur yelled, furious at his annoying best friend, who had decided it would be fun to sneak up on him.

"Well, I came from the most romantic place in the entire universe, mon petite ami!" Francis threw his hands in the air and twirled in grand theatrical display at which Arthur could only roll his eyes and mutter about how ridiculous it was under his breath. Francis ignored his snide comment and continued talking to him. "More importantly, you got me all wet Arthur!"

"Serves you right you wanker! You're the one who decided to attack me while I was washing my bloody dishes!" Arthur snapped. "And I'm more wet than you!"

"Pardon, pardon!"

"Why are you here, you git?"

"I wanted to see you! Why else would I step a foot in England?" Francis asked with a flip of his golden-y hair.

Normally Arthur would brush off such a minor insult from Francis, but he was in no mood to put up with it that day.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe to get away another troop of boy scouts?" Arthur sneered before returning his attention back to his previous task.

"Oh hon, hon. Look who's all snippy today!" Francis said facetiously as hopped up onto the counter beside his friend.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to put your ass on my counter tops, Francis?"

"I don't know…" Francis answered, kicking out his feet as they dangled above the tile floor. "It's just so unfair, cause you didn't seem to mind when it was Alfred's ass."

Arthur froze, caught totally off guard by Francis' comment. He tried his hardest not to think of his ex-boyfriend, and hearing Francis say his name brought back memories he'd repressed for decades.

"That was different…" Arthur stated more to himself than to Francis. He tried to put all of his focus into the task at hand, and began to scrub furiously at the innocent plate in his hand.

"I know. You won't kiss me like you kissed him every time he sat on your counter." Francis thought out loud. Something in Arthur snapped as slammed the abused plate on the bottom of the sink, splashing both himself and Francis in the process. He bowed his head and clenched his fists against the porcelain.

"Will you just shut the bloody hell up!" He screamed at Francis, doing all he could do to keep from hitting him. A long silence filled the space between the two, where Francis dared not say anything and Arthur was too angry to speak.

After a few tense minutes, Francis could see the muscles in Arthur's arm relax and his spine go slack. He gathered the courage to talk to his friend. "Arthur?" He said tentatively.

"Yes?" Arthur answered as he withdrew his hands from the luke-warm water and flicked away the droplets that threatened to fall from his fingertips.

"What was that about?"

"We don't need to talk about Alfred." Arthur said shortly. And of course, Francis being Francis, couldn't just leave it at that. He knew Arthur was upset and he was going to talk it out with him, even if Francis had to get Ivan to make him do it.

"Fine. Then, where have you hidden your liquor this time, mon ami?" Francis asked, hopping down off of Arthur's counter.

"I've not moved it since the last time we drank." Arthur answered. He shuffled slowly over to his table to wait for whatever drink Francis would fix for him. He prayed that his best friend knew him well enough to know that he wanted, no, he needed something strong, strong enough to make him forget about Alfred.

Francis watched as his friend fiddled with the worn hem of his pale green apron. Arthur seemed to not be in the same reality as him, but instead he was somewhere far, far away. Francis couldn't help but wonder if Arthur was thinking about one of the many blissful moments he'd shared with Alfred. Francis sighed and went to get Arthur's secret stash of assorted liquors. He'd make Arthur his favorite drink, a gin and tonic, hoping it would loosen him up enough to get him talking.

"Here," Francis said and clapped a tall glass down on the table in front of Arthur. "Gin and tonic, just the way you like it, mon ami." Francis took a seat across from Arthur.

"I'll drink to that…" Arthur drawled," Bottoms up?" He raised his glass where Francis' met his with a quiet clink. Francis sipped at the glass of red wine he'd poured for himself, whilst, in a matter of seconds Arthur had downed nearly half of his drink. "Francis, you make a bloody good drink."

"I've had my fair share of practice, mon ami. I'm sure you can mix a pretty good drink yourself, Arthur." Francis replied, comfortable with their normal pre-buzz conversation.

"Not nearly as well as you can. If I had to choose between mixing my own drink and just chugging rum from the bloody bottle, I'd probably just chug it."

"Ah… I remember when you started drinking rum…" Francis reminisced, "Back when you where the bad ass of the world, Mr. British Empire." He wriggled his eyebrows at Arthur and chuckled. Usually, Arthur would have made some sort of snide comment, more than likely about his many military failures. But instead Arthur stared silently down into drink, his hands clutched around the glass so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

"Artie…'' Francis whispered and put a tender, comforting hand on Arthur's forearm. ''What's wrong?"

"I… I shouldn't have left Alfred, Francis. "Arthur looked up at Francis.

Francis found himself staring back into tired, emerald eyes. "Then why did you leave him?" Francis asked.

"I didn't want him to pity me after my empire fell apart and the boy is too sweet not to." Arthur answered quickly before chugging down the rest of his Gin and Tonic and pushing the glass to Francis. Francis took the cup without a word and went to go mix Arthur another drink. He was going to need several more if Francis wanted Arthur to continue opening up to him like this.

"You did shut down for quite a while there, after your empire fell, mon ami…" Francis agreed as he made his way back to the table, Arthur's second drink in tow. "But, I can't imagine what that poor boy went through. You were quite the bastard to him, you know?"

"Shut up, you stupid frog." Arthur snapped. He snatched his drink form Francis' hand and downed as much as he could, only stopping when it began to feel as if he were drinking liquid fire.

"So you don't want to face up to it?" Francis raised his eyebrows. He knew he was pushing Arthur, maybe just a little too far, but Arthur needed to see the wrong in his ways and it seemed as if he needed Francis to show him.

"Well, Arthur, I think it's time you did. That's what a man would do, and I was so sure that you were a man. But I've been wrong before, I'm sure you'll agree, ma chere."

"I am a man, you sodding wanker!" Arthur slammed his fist on the table. He tried to glare down Francis, a lame attempt to prove something to him, but Francis' glaze never once so much a wavered.

"Than think about what you did to Alfred, Arthur! You were his first love, his first kiss, you took his virginity." Francis scoffed. "You had him convinced that you loved him! And then, because you were so fucking insecure you couldn't believe that anyone could care about someone with so little power, you took it all away from him!"

Arthur's mouth fell open at Francis' scolding. No one had ever been so blunt to him in his entire life, nor had someone ever been so blatantly right about him, he realized.

"That's not true. He- he was so damned full of himself and place as the bloody- bloody superpower of the world, I couldn't stand it anymore!" Arthur stumbled over his automatic denial. Thoughts ran together in his head, creating an unparalleled chaos in his mind as he scrambled to convince himself more than Francis that he hadn't been right about him.

"Ahhh… Oui. So you just had an inferiority complex then." Francis nodded. He peered over the edge of wine glass, giving Arthur a look that just dared him to try and challenge him.

"That is completely absurd, you git!"

"Something was wrong with Alfred, then?" Francis asked. He couldn't help but give Arthur a Cheshire grin. He'd cornered his friend now, and there was no way Arthur could talk his way out this time.

"No!" Arthur reeled back as if Francis had just slapped. "There was absolutely nothing wrong with Alfred!"

"But he was so full of himself, and hyper, and just plain stupid, really." Francis shrugged, "I wouldn't have wanted to deal with that either, mon cher." _Check._ Francis thought to himself.

"You hush your bloody fucking mouth!" Arthur jumped up from his seat, slamming his fists against the table once again. An inexplicable fire pulsed through his veins. "Alfred is absolutely bloody perfect! He's briliant when he needs to be, his happiness is damn infectious, and he was the sodding poster child for a southern gentleman!"

Francis chuckled at Arthur. He still didn't get it. He still couldn't see that he'd been kidding himself. He was truly the densest person he'd ever met when it came to things like love.

Arthur stared, bewildered by Francis' sudden outburst of laughter. Hadn't he just been yelling at him?

"Do you hear what you're saying to me, Arthur?" Francis asked, still chuckling. "Cause I do and it sounds like you're still very much love with Alfred."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you never stopped loving Alfred, no matter how much you try to hide from it." Arthur fell silent and was suddenly very interested in his feet. _Check mate._

"… So what? Maybe I do love Alfred." Arthur said, finally looking up to meet Francis' eyes. "There's nothing I can do about it now. It's been far too long…"

"Mon cher!" Francis exclaimed, overjoyed by Arthur's break through. "Have I taught you nothing about the ways of amour! Its spans all time! And it usually only takes one grand gesture to prove it!"

"Alright," Arthur nodded. "I get it, Francis." Arthur took long strides to get his keys. There was a dull throbbing in his head, a hint of the tingling in his finger tips that came along with being boarder line drunk, he could feel his heart thud steadily in his chest. All these things let him know he was alive, awake, and conscious, even if it didn't he didn't feel like it. He'd never felt so whole heartedly determined to do something he knew was so foolish.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! I'm back! I'm sorry that this chapter is really short! But I had to stop it at a good place. There should only be one more chapter and it should be out quite early next week! I hope you'll read and enjoy this chapter and look forward for the next!

**Please note the bump in rating!**

I don't own anything! If I did there would be Germancest **everywhere**! *shipshipship* :3 Special regards to Julia Bentley and Andrew Gunadie, for use of their song "Canadian Please". (It really is fabulous, you should go and youtube it!) Thanks for reading! Please review! :3 Enjoy!

"Arthur?" Francis called out. "What are doing?"

"What does it bloody look like I'm doing?" Arthur answered, rummaging through the drawer where he usually kept his keys. With each swipe of his hand, moving aside various receipts, to-do lists full of things he'd already done, and writing utensils of every color. Arthur grew quickly more frustrated and soon he was mumbling curses at the miscellaneous items under his breath.

"Arthur, what are you looking for?" Francis asked. His brow creased in confusion as he watched his friend paw through one of his drawers. Arthur was one of those particular, predictable people, and Francis knew what he wanted to do, but he thought Arthur would have at least taken the time to pack.

"My bloody fucking keys!" Arthur exclaimed as he slammed the drawer shut with all his might.

"Umm… Mon ami, they're on counter on your wallet…" Francis informed cautiously.

Arthur scanned the counter, and sure enough, not two feet away from him, his keys sat innocently right on top of his wallet. "Of course they are." Arthur sighed, disappointed that he'd been beaten by a mere drawer, and scooped up both items, shoving his wallet in the pocket of his jeans and keeping the keys in his hand. If nothing else got in his way, he'd be taking off towards the airport in a matter of minutes.

"Mon cher, I don't think you want to leave like that!" Francis rushed to catch up with Arthur.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Arthur snapped.

Francis clamped a hand down on Arthur's shoulder, "Because you're wearing your apron." He whispered in his ear with a chuckle.

Arthur looked down and cursed, realizing that Francis was indeed right; he was still wearing his apron. He struggled to undo the bow positioned at the nape of his neck as quickly as he could, which, admittedly, wasn't very fast at all. He'd tied one hell of a knot when he'd put it on that morning, and was having a hell of a time getting it undone now. Francis' steady stream of question wasn't aiding him in the process either.

"Aren't you going to pack something, Arthur?"

"No. I'll just borrow some cloths from Alfred if I need to."

"Isn't Alfred several sizes bigger than you?"

"Last time I checked, that was true."

"Than shouldn't you pack, mon ami?"

At that question Arthur snapped for the umpteenth time that day.

"For the love of God's green Earth, I don't fucking care, you damn Frog! Just help me get this bloody fucking thing off!" He shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Oui." Francis answered automatically as he began to tug at the strings around Arthur's neck. And in mere seconds, the top half of his apron flopped away from Arthur's body and hung limply, folded over itself at his waist, where it was cinched. Francis immediately went to work on the second knot, making Arthur jump as his hand brushed teasingly over his arse.

The knot around his waist was undone as quickly as the first as Francis pulled the soft cloth away. "Well... You made quick work of that..." Arthur commented, mildly impressed.

"I try my hardest, mon cher." Francis smiled sincerely. He couldn't help but be just a smidge proud of Arthur for his single minded determination and rash judgment. He was proud of himself for ignoring the part of him that told him to let Arthur go out in his apron, and instead doing what was right.

Arthur flashed a small smile back at Francis as he tugged on the faded leather jacket he kept folded neatly over the back of the chair he never used. Francis wished him luck on his 'epic journey in the sake of l'amor' as he whisked out the relative comfort and safety of his home and into the brisk autumn air.

Francis stood in the open doorway as his friend hopped into the one thing he own that was even the tiniest bit less then sensible, his black Mercedes, sped up the driveway and flew down the road, quickly disappearing from Francis' sight. A warm smile lit up Francis' face as he leaned his weight against the doorframe, watching as Arthur raced to make things right with Alfred, devoid of fear and hesitation for the first time in very, very many years.

_What do you know? _Francis chuckled to himself as he retreated back into Arthur's home. _Alfred is good for something other than being the village idiot after all._

Francis paced around Arthur's home for nearly two hours after his departure, doing little things like finishing the dishes he'd forced Arthur to abandon quite a while ago, even though the water had long since gone cold. But he'd do anything to keep from 'spilling the beans' or some other quaint saying of Alfred's, and ruining the surprise that was to arrive on his doorstep in less than a day from that moment.

Finally, Francis gave in the will to tell someone (or more like everyone) and picked up Arthur's cordless phone, resting on its charger, right where it was suppose to be (Francis sighed at Arthur's predictability), and dialed one of the few numbers he bothered to memorize.

Matthew stood just outside his brother's New York home, his hand high above his head as he waved goodbye. His brother was just backing out his gravel driveway in his huge Ford F-250, just leaving out for his flight to England, which would take off less than two hours if all went well at the airport (which Matthew knew it rarely ever did). He hopped back into Alfred's home as soon as his brother's outrageously big truck disappeared behind the cluster of trees beside his house, glad to get his bare feet off the freezing brick patio.

No sooner than when he'd gotten the door shut, the ringtone Matthew had set for his phone (Canadian Please by Julia Bentley and Andrew Gunadie) rang through the house, interrupting the silence that had filled it for the better part of the day. He ran over to the end table where he'd left it last and answered whoever was calling him as he threw himself onto Alfred's couch.

"Hello?"

"Ah! Bonjour, mon amor [Hello, my love]!" A familiar voice rang through the small speaker of Matthew's cell phone.

"Bonjour Papa." Matthew smiled as he greeted Francis.

"Oh, Mathieu! I have some tres, tres excitant [very, very exciting] news!"

"Vraiment [Really]?" Matthew's ears perked up in anticipation of whatever this 'very, very exciting news' could be. "I have something interesting to tell you as well, Papa."

"Ah! This is amazing indeed, but I think your brother would like my news, as well! But you must promise not to tell him!"

"Alright," Matthew chuckled at the childish excitement in Francis' voice. "Je le promets [I promise]! Now, what is this exciting news?"

"Arthur is on his way to the airport right now to catch a plane to America!" Francis shouted happily.

Matthew's jaw dropped at what Francis had just told him. It couldn't be that Arthur was on his way to America! Not when Alfred had just left for the airport not ten minutes ago!

"W-What?" He stammered pushing the little speaker of the phone into his ear, so he could be sure he heard Francis' answer correctly.

"Did you not hear me!" Francis exclaimed, not grasping the gravity weighing down Matthew's voice. "Arthur is on his way to America!"

"No!" Matthew protested, as if his saying that Arthur was **not** on his way would make it so.

"…What?" Francis asked, taken aback by Matthew's very sudden and very loud (at least for Matthew standards) outburst.

"Arthur can't be coming to America!"

"And why not, mon ami?" Francis asked, growing worried.

"Because Alfred is on his way to England!" Matthew shouted.


End file.
